


can't escape the gravity

by aesthetichomo



Series: drabbles no one asked for [1]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Caring Phil, M/M, Mental Health Issues, depressed dan, literally just an excuse for me to write something sad, there arent triggers i think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-09 21:27:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12897186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aesthetichomo/pseuds/aesthetichomo
Summary: “It'll be okay,” he whispers into Dan's hair, kissing the space behind his ear before shutting his eyes. “It always is.”He knows Dan doesn't believe him.He has enough faith for the both of them.





	can't escape the gravity

It hits on a Tuesday.

Like clouds rolling in over a bright, bold sun, Dan wakes up with a little less light in his eyes. Waking up is a loose term, actually; waking up would require getting out of bed, which Dan hasn't managed to do yet. And it's 3 in the afternoon.

Phil stands in the doorway, watching him, assessing his being. He knows how bad it can get, but it hasn't seemed to settle in as easily. He analyzes the way Dan’s breathing is shallow and his face is a little paler than usual. It’s only the first shower of an unknown storm, but it's one they've been through plenty of times.

“Hey you,” Phil murmurs into the stillness, stepping lightly across the carpet until he's sat on the edge of the bed and has Dan's hand under his. “Coffee?”

Dan shakes his head. He pulls the covers closer to his chin, pieces of it balled between his fingers, and blinks hard.

“Maybe a movie to start off the day?” Phil tries. “I heard they put Civil War on Netflix, we could argue about who's more fit, Bucky or Steve?”

Another head shake. Another slow blink. Phil nods curtly, accepting the minor rejection. He knows it's nothing personal, but he's always a little unsure. There were days where the worry would eat him alive, his brain a moving mixture of _please be okay_ and _please still love me_.

“How about a cuddle then?” He tries again, much quieter this time around.

Dan doesn't do anything in response, so Phil takes it as a yes and opens the side of the duvet, crawling in until he's snug against Dan's back.

“It'll be okay,” he whispers into Dan's hair, kissing the space behind his ear before shutting his eyes. “It always is.”

He knows Dan doesn't believe him.

He has enough faith for the both of them.

- 

Night feels like a sleepless curse and tastes like a cold cup of tea with too much sugar and not enough milk.

“Drink it, please,” Phil urges quietly, “just this cup. You need the caffeine.”

Dan hasn't spoken a word all day. He still doesn’t, even as his lips wrap around the edge of the mug and he takes a semi-sweet sip. His eyebrows draw together just a little, and Phil can faintly make out the sound of a muted hum.

“Good, good. Thank you, love,” Phil coos, letting Dan finish his gulp before he sets the mug down on the bedside drawer. “That was good, wasn't it? A bit chilly, I suppose, but that makes it sweeter.”

Dan nods, more out acceptance than agreement. He has slept on and off for almost ten hours now, and the clock steadily ticks towards midnight. It’s not late by any means (he and Dan are notorious for their late night Mario Kart marathons), but he can feel the exhaustion settling in the both of them.

“You gonna sleep some more?” He asks, hoping Dan might have enough fatigue left to get him through the night.

Dan nods and turns over so he's facing away from Phil, moving the duvet from the space in front of him as an invitation. Phil accepts (he always will, has never turned down an invitation to cuddle in nine years) and lays down so they're facing each other.

Dan is still so, so beautiful, Phil thinks, even if the battle inside him is ugly and fearsome. The moon practically illuminates him, casting shadows over his features and making him seem so vulnerable. He’s glass, Phil thinks offhandedly, glass glinting in starlight. Strong but breakable, lovely but fragile. Like Dan always is.

Certain things are different though, like how the shade of his bottom lip is a little pinker from the biting throughout the day, and his hair is tangled at the ends due to the lack of combing and fussing. Still beautiful, but still worrisome.

“A wonderful face,” he whispers, like it’s a secret they've never discussed. His gently drags his knuckle down the slant of Dan’s cheekbone. “Perfect, absolutely stunning. How do you feel, bear?”

He doesn't expect a verbal answer. He doesn't get a verbal answer. He does get a small nod and a soft blink, before Dan's eyes shut completely. It's a small victory.

Phil wraps himself around Dan's sleeping body, because even if Dan may be a rocking boat going through troubled waters, Phil will always hold him for the fight.

-

The next day is spent like the first; their bed stays warm because Dan doesn't leave it, and Phil stays busy because Dan needs it. He's never explained it to Phil, but Phil is sure it has something to do with the continuation of existence during dark days, or something philosophical like that.

He tidies up the flat, starts dishes he probably won't put away, dusts counters that aren't dirty, and sorts movies that are already categorized by letter. But nothing distracts him from the thoughts of Dan. Nothing ever has. In a way, he hasn’t changed since 2009.

The first time this happened, Phil was worried sick. Literally. He actually sicked all over the bathroom floor from being too high-strung, full of nerves and emotions he didn't know what to do with. He knew Dan wasn't well, and that's all he could work with until Dan came back a few days later, full-force and excited.

( _“What do I do next time? When you get depressed again?”_

_“Do what you normally would if I were ill. I promise, I'll always come back around.”_

_“But what if you don't? What if I don’t know how to fix it?”_

_A kiss to his lips._

_“Phil. There's nothing to fix. Just something to adjust to.”_ )

He imagines Dan's smile, the one that'll return soon. Maybe in a few hours. Maybe in a few days. Either way, it'll be back, and it'll be just as comforting as it was before. It has to be.

When Phil makes his way back to the bedroom, Dan is staring at the wall with Netflix playing on his laptop at a volume that’s almost deafening. Phil is familiar with it by now. He knows that Dan needs background noise, something to mute the bad things just a little.

“I'm making soup for dinner,” he calls over the noise. “It'll be ready by 8. I'll bring you a small bowl.”

Dan doesn't even look at him.

The second days are always the worst.

-

Dan eats dinner five hours later than intended, with Phil sitting by his side and rubbing warm circles into his thigh.

“Bad day, huh?” He quips, more as a statement than a question.

Dan remains unresponsive.

Except.

Except for the twitching of his hand around his spoon as he sets it inside the bowl. The same hand calmly reaches out and touches Phil's face, feeling for his lips and cheekbones and nose.

Phil shuts his eyes and lets himself have this; a moment worth 48 hours of waiting.

The second days are okay.

-

Day three brings the first word Dan’s said since he fell back into the rut.

“Bright,” he croaks to Phil at approximately 9 in the morning, “off.”

It takes a moment before Phil realizes he's talking about the sun that's currently streaming through the blinds, hitting him right on the cheek. He looks lovely, of course, but he also looks tired and sad and defeated and that's enough to make Phil scramble to flip the blinds shut.

“You need some water,” Phil says when he gets back onto the bed, “your voice is a little raspy. I'll be back in a few seconds. Sit up for me, love.”

He leaves to the bathroom and snags the just-in-case mug from the counter, filling it with lukewarm water before he steps back into the bedroom.

Dan is sitting up, luckily, but his eyes are pinched painfully closed and there are tears streaming down his face and _oh_. Phil doesn't drop the water, but he comes very close to it. He's able to set it down before he jumps to Dan’s side.

“Dan, oh, bear,” he mumbles, wrapping Dan up in his arms and pressing mindful kisses to his cheeks and forehead, “what's wrong? What can I do?”

Dan's face only screws up more, and more tears fall. “Too good,” he hiccups.

Phil's brows furrow, holding Dan's jaw in his hands. “What's too good, hm? It’s just water, babe.”

“You. Too good.”

“I'm too good?”

Dan bites his lip, hard enough that Phil can see where the skin is turning white between his teeth. “Yeah. Too good to me.”

Phil has faced many sides of Dan Howell. He has faced shy Dan, one that blushed when you called him beautiful or held his hand in public. He has faced angry Dan, one that shoved his laptop away and punched pillows with a scream buried in his throat. He's even faced a crying Dan, one that tries to hold it together when it hurts the most.

Phil has loved them all.

“Dan, no,” he responds, “no, I'm just doing what I have to, alright? I don't want to see you upset, so I’ll help you. Not too good, not at all. Just…” he pauses, searching Dan's face for answers he doesn't have, “just _love_ , right? I love you. That's why I'm good to you.”

It's too long of an explanation for Dan right now, but it helps the tears stop for a moment and for his lip to be released. To Phil, that's enough.

Dan retreats back to his silence, and Phil somehow feels emptier than he did before.

Fixing it isn't possible, he remembers that clearly, but coping with it is.

-

The bath is drawn by two that afternoon.

The water is a pastel purple from a lavender bath bomb and still has swirls of steam lingering by the surface when Dan climbs in, Phil holding his waist carefully to help his long legs stretch over the edge.

“Wow, I didn’t expect it to be so strong,” Phil comments when Dan is settled, back against the porcelain of the tub, “lavender helps with headaches, I guess. Make sure you drink your water, I'll be back to-”

“In,” Dan interrupts. “Get in.”

Phil shifts on his feet, leaning against the counter. “But I made the bath for you to relax, bear.”

“Want you in it too,” he mumbles, swishing the water between his fingers with the steam rising off his hand. There are little lavender petals that gather by his chest, a few stuck to his shoulders and the entire room smells heavenly, so it isn't much of a debate. Not to Phil, at least.

He strips quickly, as he's not one for putting on a show, and helps Dan scoot forward so he can slip behind him. The water splashes over the side from the additional weight but none of that seems to matter when Phil's arms wrap around Dan and pull him close, nudging his chin on top of Dan's shoulder.

“You've been so tense,” he murmurs, breath hitting Dan's ear, “relax, let me hold you, get you feeling okay.”

If it were a different day, that might include more than just washing. But not today. Not when there are words still unspoken and not when Dan needs someone gentle, someone without an ulterior motive to their kindness.

Phil drags the washcloth over Dan's torso, working it over the dry skin of his arms and down the soft pudge of his tummy, stopping just above his the furry patches of hair near his pelvis.

“You know, you're absolutely lovely,” Phil says, just because he can. He puts one hand on Dan's hip as the other washes his thighs.

Dan keens, last bits of stiffness leaving him as he leans back, fully falling on Phil's chest.

“My perfect boy. You're having bad days, and that's okay. Wouldn't want you any other way,” he continues, and Dan reacts as usual, hiding his face in Phil's neck. “I'm thinking about making pasta tonight, does that sound good?”

Dan doesn't respond, not yet. He may be lax, but he's still down. His skies are still cloudy. Instead, he nudges in closer, nose pressing at Phil's temple.

“Arms up, let me get your sides,” Phil instructs, squeezing the cloth and squirting more body wash onto it. He massages Dan's underarms and ribs, feeling where the bones peek out and push at the skin. Dan's always been a little skinny, but throughout the years he's grown and changed and Phil thinks he may be the prettiest he's ever been.

He continues washing Dan down, because it's been a few days and he knows that's something that Dan can't do when he's depressed. As independent as he may be any other time of the year, when the bad feelings come back around, Phil knows he doesn't have the manpower to do much himself.

Phil drains the bath before he grabs for the detachable shower head, rinsing Dan off with the warm spray. He tips Dan's head back and runs the water through his hair, lathering it with their sweetest smelling soap, scratching at the edges of Dan's temples and smiling when he hums.

They sit in the tub for a few minutes afterwards, when Dan smells like flowers and honeysuckle and Phil can't help but kiss the skin of his newly softened shoulder, whispering loving words between every press of lips.

“It's been a rough few days,” he hums, lips at the side of Dan's neck, “but you'll get through it. You're strong. You're resilient. And if you need help, I'll be here for you. I love you.”

Dan nods, short but gentle and he shifts, eyes meeting Phil's. Then, hesitant but easily, he kisses Phil's cheek.

The clouds are moving, pulling away just enough to let a few flashes of light in. Phil soaks it up, just in case.

-

Dan’s half of the bed is cold when Phil wakes up the next morning, pillow clutched to his chest with an iron grip. He tends to be restless on the bad days, too worried to sleep but too worn out to stay awake, but Dan rarely wakes up before him. Especially when he’s like this.

In a fleeting moment, Phil wonders if that means he isn’t like this anymore. It sparks something hopeful in him, so he hauls himself out of bed, pulls on a pair of pants, and makes his way downstairs.

Dan is awake. That’s a good sign.

Dan is sitting in unmoving silence. That’s a bad sign.

“Hey love,” Phil says softly, padding over to the loveseat where Dan is curled up in the softest blanket they own. “You’re up early, aren’t you? Couldn’t sleep?”

Dan looks up at him, and his eyes say what his mouth can’t. _Please hold me._

So Phil does. He scoops his boy up in his arms and pulls him close, combing his hands through the longer bits of Dan’s curls. Something is different this time. Something feels shifted. Lighter, dare he say, happier.

“I love you,” Dan whispers against Phil’s clavicle, kissing the bone that juts out from his chest. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Phil replies, heart almost bursting with the emotion of it, “love you more than anything, anyone.”

Dan clings hard, a telltale sign that maybe all isn’t well quite yet. But that’s okay, that’s fine. Phil is here. Phil is always here. When Phil says this, Dan kisses him lightly and thanks him three times.

In some ways, the storm has passed. In others, it’s just stilled.

Phil is prepared to keep Dan afloat no matter what.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> can you tell ive been depressed bc i definitely can
> 
> anyway, follow me @ dansblue on the tumz 
> 
> title taken from heavy- linkin park *broken heart emoji*


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